Why My Day Starts with Coffee and Ends with a Question

Have you ever wondered why some people seem to have it all—energy, focus, and a schedule that flows effortlessly, like a well-rehearsed country ballad? I’m not saying I’m that guy. But I do think there’s something uniquely clarifying about putting your routine under the microscope. Here’s a glimpse into how I spend my days out here on the edge of the Sonoran Desert, balancing work, ambition, and navigating relationships like a late-night golf putt that just won’t sink. Spoiler: It’s not perfect, but it’s mine.

The Morning Hustle: When Desert Stillness Meets Caffeine Chaos

The first sound of my day is the not-so-dulcet hum of my burr coffee grinder. I like to think my mornings reflect the duality of life itself—calm yet buzzing with potential. That’s deep, right? But in practical terms, mornings at my house are ruled by routine, and coffee is king. It’s a dark roast I bring back from an indie café in Sedona, and yeah, I’m fully aware that’s peak “guy with an MBA who also loves a good hike” energy. What can I say? I take my vices seriously.

From there, it's 30 minutes of journaling at my kitchen table, which looks out on the kind of backyard that’s about 80% desert landscape and 20% “keeping-the-plants-alive-is-a-religious-experience.” Journaling isn’t as highbrow as it sounds. Some days, it’s deep thoughts about relationships—or why leaving a hand emoji response on Instagram Stories isn’t real flirting. Other days, it’s lists of new ways to remind myself my two-day-old leftovers are not, in fact, still edible. It clears my head. Funny enough, this small discipline often leads to my best insights. Like this one: If you’re waiting on other people to make your mornings better, start by perfecting your solo coffee game.

Midday Mission: Every Task Needs a Little Swagger

After coffee-fueled clarity, it’s off to the races (also known as my home office). My job involves writing relationship advice—and whether it's the perfect first date or how to patch up communication over foot-long texts, I try to pack smart solutions into relatable language. The trick for me is channeling the natural flow of conversation, almost like I’m sitting on a sun-drenched patio with a friend over mimosas. She’s asking, "Seriously, Nate, why is it so HARD to find someone who remembers your birthday?" And I’m like, "Text reminders exist for a reason, my friend." We laugh. I scribble down insight.

Writing about relationships has made me think deeply about the even subtler ones—like the relationship you have with time. I block my tasks into distinct chunks, tackling the “heavy lifting” before lunch, and saving more creative brainstorming for afternoons. This, by the way, is a life hack I'd preach to anyone: If you’re tempted to procrastinate on the hard stuff by cleaning your silverware or watching TikToks about people falling off paddleboards, stop right there. Attack your hardest task as soon as you’ve got your caffeine armor on, like a knight heading into battle (but with less chainmail and more bullet points).

My Lunch Hour Is a Love Letter to Balance (Literally)

When you grow up cooking weekend brunch with your family in Scottsdale, a quick sandwich just doesn’t cut it anymore. My lunch breaks are little love letters to myself—a salad with prickly pear vinaigrette and grilled chicken one day, maybe a smoked turkey sandwich with green chile the next. The key here isn’t gourmet status. It’s taking the time to step away from the grind, breathe, and reset. Call it mindfulness or just an excuse to eat something that’s not from a drive-thru, but one thing’s for sure: nothing kills mid-afternoon brain fog like an intentional, uninterrupted meal.

Sometimes, I’ll use lunch to text a friend back or scan a few unread messages. I’m not “the guy who’s glued to his phone,” but I do think texting back is a lost art. Side note: If you’re single and trying to make a connection, sending a text that opens the door to humor or storytelling is GUARANTEED to work better than “How was your weekend?” Try asking someone their most irrational childhood fear, and you’re guaranteed a memorable reply. Mine? I used to think tumbleweeds could bite. Go ahead and laugh.

Afternoon Wanderlust: Where Structure Meets Spontaneity

Once the big tasks are done, I tend to head outside for a break. Over the years, I’ve learned that when you’re surrounded by glowing red mountains and sprawling peach-toned horizons, you’ve gotta soak it up. Lately, it’s been quick walks through my neighborhood to clear my head, snapping bad attempts at Ansel Adams-style photos along the way. (Pro tip: when the light’s just right, even a Target jogging set looks editorial out here.)

These resets usually spark fresh ideas—like metaphors for my next essay—or they remind me to call my mom, who enjoys throwing subtle golf metaphors into our chats, even when unrelated. (“You’ve got the momentum, Nate—like you’re putting from the fringe!”) If you’re anything like me, and live inside your head too much, the fix might not be far off. Literally. A 15-minute stroll away from your to-do list can do wonders for your perspective, so long as you’re not doom-scrolling Twitter at the same time.

Evenings: Finding Joy in Small Wins

By sunset, the desert outside my window flushes with so many colors you could take an AI art generator to court for copyright. Evenings are sacred. They’re slower, quieter, and a time for unwinding from all that earlier ambition. Maybe it’s the country music playing faintly in the background (Luke Combs if I’m nostalgic; Kacey Musgraves when I’m reflective), or just the glow of a laptop with one last idea for an article. But this is when things shift gears.

Relationships sneak into my mind during this time, probably because they feel as colorful as those sunsets—complex, vibrant, and capable of ending too quickly if you’re not careful. If I’m dating someone, I like to dedicate these quieter moments for calls or FaceTimes, trying to one-up them with ridiculous “Would You Rather” scenarios. Even in established relationships, I’ve learned: keeping playfulness alive matters.

If it’s a solo evening, it’s typically filled with unwelcome self-doubts like, “Why did I include that pun when I KNOW it’s too much?” But instead of dwelling there, I redirect. Journaling a nightly question does the trick. It’s the simplest way to reflect—What lit you up today? What made you pause? Or occasionally, What metaphorical tumbleweed fears did you banish this week?

Final Thoughts: A Desert Perspective on Life and Love

My day-to-day isn’t revolutionary, but I think that’s just the point. Our routines are the frameworks for everything else—your ambition, friendships, and yes, your relationships. If you haven’t found “the one” or are deep in the trenches of figuring something out with a new partner, you don’t need to pressure your days to be perfect. Instead, focus on creating moments of stillness and joy that feel FULLY yours. For me, that’s coffee routines, country ballads, and twice-a-day musings about connection.

Fill your days with small wins, keep the humor alive, and bring in a little structure without suffocating the fun. Someday, the right kind of “one”—whether person or purpose—will fit seamlessly into the gaps.

Because just like the desert teaches us, there’s beauty in the balance.